Blacksmiths Are Hot, Too
by Zemby
Summary: The sun's setting, it's time to go home, but Shawn has a plan and Gus tries to get out of it...with awkward results. Tag to the episode "High Noonish".


"Shawn, why are dressed like this again?"

Gus and Shawn were back in their cowboy and blacksmith attire from the day before, watching the sun slowly set from the porch of the Sheriff's office. The white horse Shawn rode once was staring at them, shaking its head at the two friends. Everybody except a few employees had already left the old west town, leaving the two detectives to their own devices.

Shawn took a deep breath from the surrounding air, letting it out slowly. "Gus, don't you love this town."

"No. Not at all, really. I would love to leave right now."

"Well, I've been giving it a lot of thought for a long time--"

"We've been here a day, Shawn."

"--And I've decided to move the Psych office to Old Sonora Town. What better detective agency is there than one with a cowboy with great hair and spurs, and a black blacksmith that can't make anything but can play a harmonica? Actually Gus," Shawn said, tilting his head as he thought of something, " I think I should learn the harmonica, not you, it suits a cowboy more."

Gus gave Shawn his look that said, _"Oh hell no."_

"There is no way we would move Psych over here to this death trap. And if that's all you wanted to stay for, I'm going home," Gus told Shawn, walking down the steps to the Sheriff's office.

"Dude! Think of all the great things that come by living here!" Shawn yelled after his best friend.

Gus stopped near the horse and turned around, facing Shawn again. "There's no phone signal, no TV, radio, or any other kind of electronic device." Then, remembering his trump card, added, "There's not even any pineapple, Shawn."

To that, the fake psychic sighed, and then preceded down the steps. "Well, it was always a fantasy of mine...but it would be bad of me to desert pineapples like that." Then, he was taking the last step down when his spur caught on the last wooden step, throwing him off balance.

He flailed his arms a bit while regaining his balance, but not before he accidentally smacked the horse on the nose.

The poor horse neighed, tossing its head and moving around a bit, almost hitting Gus and knocking him down. Which he almost did himself when he tripped over the apron he was wearing.

Meanwhile, Shawn released the spur from the step. "What did I do to deserve that from my beloved spurs?" he commented as he examined the multi-pointed metal.

Gus angrily jerked around his apron as he gave his own answer. "Because we shouldn't keep taking these costumes. Why did we even put these back on?"

"Because we were going to move here, but since we're not, we'll just take the costumes to the Psych office!" Shawn explained with a grin.

"No way Shawn," Gus said as he started taking off the apron.

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Dude, what are you doing?"

"Taking this thing off. It's an apron, Shawn."

"But it's a _blacksmith's_ apron, Gus!" Shawn protested, like that explained it all.

"In case you haven't noticed Shawn, I'm no blacksmith," Gus snapped, taking off the rest of the costume.

"...But really, Gus? In the middle of the street?"

Gus froze as he threw his shirt to the ground. He had been so fed up with the blacksmith costume he didn't notice he was bare from the waist up now. He looked around quickly to see if anybody else was around, and saw two workers that were exiting the Saloon staring at him.

"This is your fault, Shawn!" Gus accused as he quickly gathered up the clothes and hurried back into the Sheriff's office to change into his regular clothes.

Shawn shrugged, a huge grin on his face now. "Dude, I didn't tell you to strip. But with the setting sun, it did have a nice effect."

"That's creepy, Shawn."

"So it's not my turn? I'm safe?"

Gus threw the blacksmith's apron at the fake psychic. "Shut up, Shawn."

Shawn neatly dodged the oncoming article of clothing, making no move to pick it up after it landed. "And now that you've got that out of your system," he said, ignoring Gus's glare as he put on his shirt, "we'll head back to the office."

"And you're taking that, aren't you."

"Of course," Shawn answered smugly. "Think of all the cases we'll get back at Psych with me dressed as a cowboy. A psychic cowboy with great hair. Who can top that?"


End file.
